


it was a close thing

by ronanlynchisneversleepingagain



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Jack Knew First, M/M, and jack knew that bitty knew, and they are in mutual pain about this knowledge, but bitty KNEW, jack is not the only angsty hockey player on this team, obliviousness is a boring plot device and pain is better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 09:56:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7679890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ronanlynchisneversleepingagain/pseuds/ronanlynchisneversleepingagain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In another world, he might have kissed Jack Zimmermann just then, but Bitty no longer liked to dwell in possibilities. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <i>Or, Jack might have known first, but Bitty definitely knew about Jack’s feelings. He just thought that Jack didn’t feel like they were worth pursuing. </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	it was a close thing

**Author's Note:**

> this honestly all started because i was stuck in a TERRIBLE meeting and i started thinking about bitty being sad about jack and i wrote [this meta post](http://ronanlynchisneversleepingagain.tumblr.com/post/148407296488/an-alternative-to-bitty-being-completely-oblivious) and then i had to write 5k words to accompany it.

            Bitty had never meant for it to go this far. It had been a crush and he’d had plenty before. He’d had plenty of experience getting over them, too. The thing was…he’d never figured on Jack liking him _back_. He had no experience whatsoever with this strange brand of casual flirtation, invisible to everyone except for himself.

            Bitty blamed Kent Parson, perhaps a little pettily. The thing was - it hadn’t been a problem before Kent Parson crashed Epikegster, because Bitty had been cocooned in the safety of the knowledge that his crush was straight as an arrow and therefore, would never be interested. The fact that Jack had definitely been making out with Kent Parson in his room before angrily kicking him out _not because of the kissing but because Kent was being an asshole_ was a problem for Bitty.

            It was a problem because it sparked a traitorous little flame of hope in Bitty every time he looked at Jack. It was a problem because it caused Bitty to rewind every moment they’d ever shared and sort through them for signs. It was a problem because it meant Bitty’s crush didn’t _have_ to be unrequited. Bitty was going to burn alive with the knowledge.

            After Kent had left the night of the Epikegster, Jack had locked himself in his room, slamming the door behind him. Bitty had sat outside his own door for at least a half hour before he had the courage to take the few steps across the hall and knock gently on the door. There had been no answer.

            “Jack?” Bitty had asked, his voice barely audible above the thumping bass still coming up through the floor. Jack didn’t answer after a long time and Bitty sighed to himself. Before crossing back to his room, he said, a little louder to be sure he could be heard, “I’ll be right across the hall if you need anything, Jack.”

            If he had baked several batches of cookies more than usual the next day, no one complained. Bitty had snuck a bag into Jack’s suitcase while he was distracted by Shitty in the next room over and when Jack texted him the next day to thank him, Bitty’s heart had leapt in his chest. Hope was a dangerous thing to play with.

 

\--

 

            The situation had devolved from there, which in retrospect was not even entirely Bitty’s fault. Sure, Bitty was the one with the juvenile crush, but Jack was the one who kept _breaking the rules_. When they came back from Winter Break that year, Bitty couldn’t tell if Jack was actually different or if Bitty’s newfound knowledge was skewing his perception.

            For the month of January, he danced around talking about what happened with Kent with Jack, but Jack stayed resolutely silent. Aside from his silence on Kent Parson, though, Bitty knew he wasn’t imaging the shift in Jack. Jack started bringing his work into the kitchen a little more often and finding ways to casually touch Bitty all the time and seeking Bitty out for coffee so he could sit a little too close. Bitty hated that he allowed it and hated the simmering frustration he felt that Jack wouldn’t talk about it with him. Bitty did a lot of frustration-fueled baking that month, until one day, he found himself knocking on Shitty’s door with a plate of cookies in his hand.

            “Bitty, man, you have perfect fucking timing,” Shitty said as he reached for the plate of cookies. Bitty set it on the table on top of the open notebook. Shitty stretched back in his chair and closed his laptop when Bitty jumped up on his bed to sit.

            “It is my firm belief that there is a never a bad time for cookies,” Bitty said, pleased anyways by the moan of approval from Shitty when he dug into the plate.

            “Agreed,” Shitty said around a mouthful of crumbs. Bitty smiled brightly back at him, but he felt the smile slip a little before he could catch himself. Shitty put down the cookie he had been reaching for and wiped his hands off on his bare legs.

“What’s on your mind, bro?” he asked, leaning forward.

            Bitty waved a hand in dismissal.

            “Can’t I just bring you a plate of cookies without something on my mind?” Bitty asked.

            “Bits, you can bring me cookies any time you damn well please,” Shitty said, punching him on the shin. “But you can also tell me what’s on your mind.”

            Bitty played with the hem on his button-down, flipping it back and forth with his fingers thoughtfully. Shitty waited patiently, hands folded together and brown eyes fixed on Bitty in a way that made Bitty want to just tell him everything.

            Instead, he asked, “When I came out to you…I mean, did you already know? Before I said so…that, you know, I was gay?”

            Shitty sighed, long and hard. He got up off the chair and sat on the bed beside Bitty and threw an arm around Bitty’s shoulders in a hug.

            “Is this about your parents, bro? Because –” Shitty started.

            “No!” Bitty interrupted, a little surprised. “No, Shits, it’s not about that.”

            Bitty flushed and looked away. He took a steadying breath and looked up at the ceiling, counting to five before he let himself talk again.

            “I have this friend,” Bitty said. His voice was small and tinny and sad and Bitty hated himself for it. He didn’t want to cry. He wasn’t going to cry. “I know…I think I know that he’s gay, but he won’t talk to me about it.”

            “Ah, Bitty,” Shitty said, drawing him into a tighter hug. Bitty was fiercely glad for it. He pinched the bridge of his nose and willed the tears away. “You can’t force that kind of thing.”

            “I know, but…” Bitty said. “You knew, right, before I told you?”

            Shitty looked reluctant, but eventually said, “I strongly suspected, bro.”

            “Why didn’t you just ask me about it, then?” Bitty asked.

            Shitty ruffled Bitty’s hair gently and grabbed his face so Bitty was forced to look into his eyes.

            “Honest to God, Bits, how would you have reacted if I came out of fucking nowhere and asked you if you were gay back then?” Shitty asked. Bitty shivered involuntarily at the spike of panic that seized him at the thought of it. Shitty took his expression as his answer, nodding and letting go of Bitty. “It’s scary shit, man. It’s not my place or yours to rush anyone into it.”

            Bitty had stopped hinting about it to Jack after that. Jack never brought it up and every time Bitty was tempted to prompt him, Bitty thought about his own shaking hands clutching flash cards and he learned to let it go.

           

\--

 

            Bitty trained himself to not care about the way that Jack’s hand sometimes lingered a little too long on his arm. He resolutely ignored the soft way that Jack sometimes looked at him when he thought Bitty was otherwise occupied. He absolutely did not quantify the times that Jack had started to say _something_ and stopped mid-sentence. Instead, he focused on the things he could quantify as ‘friend things’ and tweeted them to remind himself that Jack was his _friend_ (and nothing more, even if he wasn’t straight). Bitty wasn’t sure it was doing the trick.

            The day after a big win, Shitty charged him with tracking down a sign that some girl had brought to warm-ups. The girl had seen the plea on twitter and stopped by the Haus later in the day, blushing and peeking around the corners of the kitchen, clearly hoping for a glimpse of the Jack Zimmermann her sign was trying to proposition. Bitty had sent her on her way with a freshly baked pie instead.

            Bitty hadn’t even questioned Shitty when he’d texted Bitty to put “the amazing piece of art” up in his room, but he had seriously considered killing Shitty when Jack had caught him with said sign as he considered where to leave it in Shitty’s room. It had seriously been a moment out of the worst rom-com that Holster had ever made Bitty watch with him.

 

            **Scene:**

            _BITTY holds a “YO MARRY ME JACK ZIMMERMANN” sign and contemplates where to put it in SHITTY KNIGHT’S room. There is a sound behind BITTY and BITTY turns to look, sign clearly visible in hand. Standing in the doorway is JACK ZIMMERMANN, wet and dripping in a towel, tooth brush in hand._

            JACK: Uh

            BITTY: UH!

            JACK frowns at BITTY and continues brushing his teeth. BITTY is frozen in place.

            JACK: Goodnight, Bittle.

_It is a dismissal. BITTY unfreezes and quickly throws the sign on SHITTY’s bed before scrambling out of the room._

           

 

            The next day when Jack came back from his early morning run, Bitty was waiting in the kitchen for him. He’d already made eggs and bacon, but none of the other Haus residents had stirred from their beds yet, although a few had texted him to save some food for them.

            “Jack!” Bitty squeaked as soon as he came in the door. He reminded himself to breath, trying to control the flush of embarrassment at the remembrance of the scene yesterday. Jack paused at the kitchen counter and nodded at Bitty. Bitty pushed a plate of eggs and bacon towards him and Jack took it with a grunt of thanks. He let him eat in peace for a few minutes before taking a deep breath and saying, “I wanted to apologize if I made you uncomfortable last night.”

            Jack’s fork paused for a full, noticeable second before it continued shoveling food around his plate.

            “What?” Jack asked, not looking up at Bitty.

            “I mean, with the sign,” Bitty explained in a rush, unable to stop the rambling quality of his voice. “Shitty saw it at warm-ups and wanted it so much that I asked around on twitter and then this girl showed up with the sign, so that’s how I ended up with it. And anyway, Shitty was still at the library so he asked me to hang it up in his room so that’s how I ended up…you know. There.”

            Jack flicked his eyes up to Bitty, but looked back down immediately. His hand gripped his fork a little too tightly to be natural and he frowned down at the remaining eggs on the plate.

            “You didn’t make me uncomfortable,” Jack said. “It was a joke.”

            Jack looked up, his eyes catching Bitty’s for a too long, too intense moment and Bitty felt words forming in his mouth, but didn’t let any sound escape his lips. There was a thunder clap of sound from the stairs that meant someone else was awake and both Bitty and Jack looked away at the same time.

            Bitty let out a sigh and went back to the stove.

            “Right,” Bitty said to himself more than Jack. “A joke.”

             

 

\--

 

            “Ugh, if I were you, I’d take a page out of Shitty’s book and skip this class,” Bitty said dramatically as he slumped in the lecture hall seat next to Jack. Jack smiled, a little lop-sidedly at him. They were the only two from the team that had made it to the lecture hall that morning, despite the fact that there were eight others signed up for the class. “Do you even need the credit?”

            “No,” Jack said. He was tapping a pen on his open notebook as the lecture hall filled around them. A few girls in the row ahead of them shot the empty seats that normally belonged to the other hockey players a dirty look and whispered to each other with their heads bent close.

            “Then why are you torturing yourself? You should sleep in with the others,” Bitty said.

            “Someone’s gotta have your back, Bittle,” Jack said. “Make sure you don’t drool on your notes and or forget to text about your walk over.”

            Bitty huffed.

            “I didn’t text anyone on the way over here,” Bitty said.

            “You had your nose buried in your phone the whole time.”

            “You know there’s a difference between texting and tweeting, right?” Bitty asked, suddenly a little more awake. “It’s important to me that you know that.”

            Jack laughed, a deep, pleasant sound that made Bitty want to blush because it was so stupidly attractive to him.  Before he could even kick himself for thinking that, however, Professor Handler ducked into the hall and the class quieted. Her sharp eyes swept over the room and settled on Bitty and Jack in the back row, empty seats all around them.

            “Hey, where are the rest of you guys?” she asked.

            Bitty groaned to himself.

 

\--

 

 

            They had been telling themselves “One Last Game” for the past several games in the tournament, but when the final buzzer blared over the ice and the scoreboard wasn’t in their favor, it felt like a kick to the gut in the worst way. It was a quiet walk back to the locker room, everyone too disappointed to say anything at all. Bitty had already hopped in and out of the shower and packed away most of his gear when he realized Jack was not in the locker room. His bag was untouched in his locker space and he hadn’t been in the showers either. Bitty quietly pulled on his clean shirt and slipped out of the locker room. No one stopped him and he thought that he knew where to look.

            Jack was out on the loading dock. Bitty still hesitated for a moment before crossing the dark dock to where Jack sat on a palette. When he sat down next to Jack, his heart squeezed painfully in his chest when he realized that Jack wasn’t just moping, he was crying. Bitty couldn’t help himself from throwing his arms around Jack and hugging him close.

            Jack clung to him in return, crying into Bitty’s fresh shirt, but Bitty only held him tighter under he was all cried out. Jack rested his forehead against Bitty’s shoulder after the tears stopped, but didn’t pull back from the embrace. Bitty held him there until his breathing normalized and then unwrapped his arms. Jack sat up and wiped at his face. His hand lingered there, obscuring his face from Bitty.

            Bitty didn’t know what to say so he didn’t say anything at all. After a long while, Jack let his hands fall away and he looked over at Bitty. Bitty had thought his heart was mostly immune to Jack Zimmermann’s sad eyes by then, but he felt a new fatal crack as he looked at Jack then.

            “Oh, Jack,” he murmured and had to look away so he didn’t cry. Jack said nothing, but kept looking at Bitty with those pleading eyes, his face naked with vulnerability.

            In another world, Bitty might have kissed Jack Zimmermann just then, but Bitty no longer liked to dwell in possibilities. Instead, Bitty stood up and clapped Jack on the shoulder. Jack schooled his face into a more acceptable mask of defeat and followed him back to the locker room, which had emptied in their absence. As he gathered his gear, he watched Jack slip out of his and into the shower. He sat on the bench to wait for him so Jack wouldn’t have to walk to the bus alone. In his mind, Bitty amended a former witticism: _Never fall for a straight boy or a closeted future NHL star._ He let himself cry.

 

 

\--

 

 

            Bitty sat across from Jack at Founders, doing his best to study, but actually texting Lardo about going shopping for a Spring C outfit the next afternoon.  It’s why he didn’t notice at first when Jack wasn’t studying either. He only noticed when Jack kicked him lightly under the table and he looked up to see Jack watching him.

            “You texting about the end of the world over there?” Jack chirped. “It looks serious.”

            “Spring C,” Bitty snorted and finished his sentence before putting his phone aside.

            “Oh yeah?” Jack asked and Bitty could feel the chirp coming before he’d even opened his mouth. “Whose shoulders are you going to sit on at Spring C, eh, Bittle?”

            Bitty sputtered, glaring at Jack who was grinning like the cat who got the cream.

            “I am plenty tall enough!” Bitty said.

            “Yeah, sure,” Jack chuckled.

            “It’s not my fault you’re all giants,” Bitty pouted for full effect. “It’s a perspective problem.”

            “Whatever you say,” Jack agreed. Bitty threw his pen at Jack and Jack caught it without any real effort. Jack caught Bitty’s eyes across the table and his smile stuttered on his face when he looked suddenly sad. There was a beat too long of silence between them and Bitty rushed to fill it.

            “I was actually just coordinating with Lardo so we can go shopping for outfits,” Bitty said to diffuse the sudden, strange tension.

            “When are you going?” Jack asked and the moment was gone.

            “Tomorrow afternoon, probably,” Bitty said, pushing his notes away and yawning. “I think I’m gonna skip my math seminar to go.”

            Jack frowned at him, but Bitty shrugged. Jack might take his student responsibilities serious until the bitter end, but Bitty had better things to think about than polynomials. Namely, what on earth he was going to wear to the Spring C.

            “I’m going apartment hunting tomorrow,” Jack said. Bitty sat up a little straighter in his seat. Jack rarely offered up information about his plans for after-college without prompting and Bitty recognized the opening. It wasn’t that he liked to cause himself pain by thinking about Jack moving to Providence and moving on with his life, but Bitty also couldn’t deny that the more scraps of information he got about Jack’s post-Samwell life, the easier it was to underscore that Bitty was not going to be a part of it.

            “That’s great, Jack,” Bitty said. “Do you already have some in mind or are you going with an agent?”

            “Uh, agent,” Jack said, looking a little surprised at Bitty’s sudden enthusiasm. “Georgia set me up with someone.”

            When Bitty asked him what he wanted out of an apartment, Jack said, “It doesn’t really matter. It’s just a place to sleep.” So, to fill the silence, Bitty chattered about his own dream apartment for the better part of an hour, while Jack mostly listened, doodling in the margins of notes and asking questions occasionally.

            The next day, when Bitty had opened the door of the Haus to Alicia Zimmermann, he had almost choked before he gathered himself enough to offer her a mini-cupcake that he had baked that morning while waiting for Lardo. Jack had appeared moments later and they leaned against the counters in the kitchen together while Alicia polished off her cupcake and complimented him endlessly. Bitty did not blush, but it was a close thing.

            Jack lingered in the doorway of the kitchen as Alicia went out to the car ahead of him, chatting on the phone with the realtor they were meeting in Providence.

            “I’ll take pictures of all the kitchens we look at,” Jack said, a little flushed and smiling at Bitty. Bitty inhaled sharply and tore his eyes away from Jack. He swallowed and searched his brain desperately for something, anything clever to say in response to that, but he had never been good at returning chirps and he definitely wasn’t good at returning whatever that was. When he didn’t say anything after a few moments, Jack rapped his knuckles on the doorway and left without another word.

            A few hours later, Jack sent him a picture via text of a beautiful stainless steel double oven that made Bitty’s heart seize. It had been the kind of set-up that Bitty had waxed poetic about at Founders the day before, long after he thought Jack had tuned him out. He deleted the picture immediately and put his phone away for the rest of the day. He did not cry about it, but it was a close thing.

 

\--

 

            Bitty was still in awe of his new oven. He thought he might never leave the kitchen again. He was running out of surface space to put baked goods on and he couldn’t remember the last time he had been so happy. (So long as he didn’t think about how close graduation was.)

            That morning Jack had suggested he move his bed into the kitchen and Bitty had admitted that that sounded like a nice plan. Half because a bedroom/kitchen combination sounded like his dream operation and half because he knew it would make Jack laugh. Bitty had a limited number of such opportunities left, so he was cherishing it when he could.

            That evening when Shitty and Jack tumbled into the kitchen with bulky, shapeless packages under their arms, Bitty didn’t think anything of it at first. He had pushed slices of pie across the counter to them and leaned in to talk.

            “Did y’all get something from the post office?” he’d asked. Jack had looked up at him from the pie and leaned his head to the side, looking a little sad as his eyes darted towards the package he’d laid on the counter and that was all it took for it to click as to what was inside.

            “Oh,” Bitty said, suddenly deflated. “Right.”

            Because of course they were full of graduation robes. What else would they be picking up from the post office this late in the year?

            Shitty sprang up from his seat and pulled Bitty into a hug.

            “Awww, Bits, don’t be sad about us old fuckers,” Shitty said, ruffling his hair. “You’re not gonna get rid of us that easily. Right, Zimmermann?”

            Bitty looked over to where Jack was still seated and met his eyes. He looked as miserable as Bitty felt, which was a twisted sort of comfort. Jack was still boring holes through Bitty with his eyes when he spoke.

            “No, not getting rid of me,” Jack said and it felt deliberate.

            Bitty pulled out of Shitty’s embrace and smoothed his hair back down for something to do. When he felt a little more composed, he put his hands on his hips and nodded towards the packages.

            “Alright, then, let’s see them.”

 

 

\--

 

            Bitty had had an entire speech ready to give Jack, but when the moment came, he hadn’t said it. He had felt dizzy from hugging Jack so hard and when he’d let him go and Jack’s arms had lingered at his waist, Bitty had lost his nerve. Bitty thought about his shaking hands holding flash cards and he thought about Jack crying on the loading dock after the Frozen Four and he thought about Jack apartment hunting in Providence for his new life and his speech died on his lips. Instead, he had fiddled with Jack’s tie and excused himself as quickly as he could.

            He started crying half-way across the Quad and ran as soon as he was free of the majority of the crowd. When he got back to the Haus, he sank against the front door and buried his head in his knees, letting the tears rack his shoulders violently and allowing himself to cry good and hard for all the times this year that he hadn’t. Jack was gone. He wasn’t coming back. It was better this way. It was.

            Bitty was not convinced, but he tried very hard to be. Still crying, but not as hard, he inched his way up the stairs. He grabbed the earphones out of his carry-on and plugged them into his phone so at least he could have Beyoncé on his side. His room was already packed and bare, so he found himself drifting across the hallway and opening the door to Jack’s. Chowder had dropped off several boxes earlier that week that were still sitting out in the hallway, so Bitty moved them inside one by one, sitting them on the stripped mattress. He opened one labelled clothes to find several sweatshirts balled inside. He dumped it out onto the bed, sniffing back his tears, and started folding them just for something to do.

            Jack had to grab his elbow to get his attention.

            “Hello!” Bitty said, so startled that he jumped back from Jack and scrabbled at his ears.

            “Bittle,” Jack said as Bitty tore his earbuds out of his ears. Bitty put a hand to chest and wiped furiously at his eyes before getting a good look at Jack.

            “Jack?” Bitty asked. He dragged a hand across his face again to make sure he was awake and not hallucinating. He drank in the sight of Jack and only then did he realize that Jack was almost heaving from effort. “Oh my goodness – why are – is everything alright? You’re outta breath.”

            Bitty stepped closer to Jack, closing the space between them in his concern. Jack was staring at Bitty and his eyes flickered to where Bitty had laid a hand on his arm.

            “Bitty,” Jack said so softly that Bitty almost missed it.

            “You could have texted,” Bitty said, matching his whisper, his throat suddenly very dry. Jack stepped closer to him and Bitty was suddenly very aware that his hand was still clutching at Jack’s arm. Jack looked down at him and Bitty felt like he was possibly dreaming when Jack’s strong arms settled shyly on Bitty’s hips and then pulled him closer. When Jack pressed his mouth against, Bitty was so shocked that he didn’t close his eyes into the kiss. He had spent so long telling himself not to imagine how Jack Zimmermann’s mouth felt that the reality of Jack’s lips was an impossibility that his brain could not process right at that moment.

            His heart was a jackhammer in his chest. He let his eyes slide closed and sighed into the kiss. Jack pulled back for a split second, his hand cupping Bitty’s face, but Bitty tipped his face up and Jack pressed his lips against his again. A phone buzzing against both of their chests forced them apart. Jack pulled back first, letting go of Bitty’s face. Bitty tried very hard not to miss his touch.

            “I gotta go,” Jack said after looking at the message. Bitty couldn’t quite meet Jack’s eyes when he said okay, agreeing. Jack’s hands slid up Bitty’s arms to cup his elbows and Bitty forced himself to look up, swallowing. “I gotta go,” Jack repeated. “But I’ll text you, okay?”

            “Okay,” Bitty said and if his tone was a little watery, it really wasn’t his fault. Jack’s hands dropped from Bitty’s arms, but Bitty caught his hands before he could actually leave. He rocked forward onto his toes and grabbed Jack’s chin to kiss him one last time. It was probably all he was ever going to get from Jack, so he might as well do as he liked for just a few minutes more. Jack didn’t pull away this time, but when Bitty stood back and let his hands drop from Jack, Jack gave him another long look and turned to leave.

            He stopped in the doorway, turning back to where Bitty still stood.

            “I’ll text you,” Jack said again.

            “Okay,” Bitty agreed and then Jack was gone, as quickly as he’d appeared.

            Bitty stood there in the empty room, surrounded by Chowder’s things and did not cry. He was all out of tears. He sat down instead. He wasn’t sure how long it was before his phone buzzed with an incoming text message.

            He didn’t move to open to message immediately. He wasn’t ready for the easy letdown that it no doubt contained. Jack had his entire career ahead of him and he wasn’t throwing it away on Bitty. One or two kisses wasn’t going to change that. Bitty sat back in the chair and braced himself for _I just had to do it once_ or _I needed to know what it felt like_. His fingers were shaking when he finally unlocked his phone and swiped open the message.

 

**FROM: JACK ZIMMERMANN**

_I’m sorry I waited so long. I want to try….if you want to?_

 

            And then, as he was reading it, a new message appeared.

**FROM: JACK ZIMMERMANN**

_Can we skype later when you get home?_

            Bitty felt the tears rolling down his face, but didn’t bother wiping them away even when they splashed onto the screen. He felt paralyzed. He felt wounded. He felt…hopeful.

           

**Author's Note:**

> [come, join me in hell on tumblr.](http://ronanlynchisneversleepingagain.tumblr.com)


End file.
